The Path to the Heart
by romantic-ruffles
Summary: Oneshot. The last person Lily Evans thought she would fall for was arrogant James Potter. James was egoistical, a showoff... and the only one who could uncover the path to her heart.


**The Path to the Heart  
- quixotic-blue/Jean!  
****  
Disclaimer: What is even the point? **

**.o.o.o.**

If someone had told me that by the end of seventh year, I would be head-over-heels in love with James Potter, I would have laughed out loud. It's not that I hated him, although that was the common perception. His habits irritated me, yes. Rumpling his hair so it'd look windswept, nicking Snitches and showing off, playing useless pranks, dating a girl a week…

Well, I guess that was the kind of thing a handsome, talented juvenile boy would do. It got on my nerves, but I ignored it. It was when he started asking me out that I wanted to pummel his face inwards and squash his gorgeous nose.

_Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Just another fling? I'm not going to let myself fall in love with an idiot like James Potter. Why, after all, should I date some arrogant prick who would probably brag about his Quidditch accomplishments or something on our date and then dump me after for not being sufficiently impressed? Ha ha._

"But, Lily, I love you." That's what he would say every time I turned him down. I didn't think he loved me. Not for real. I thought critical, cynical thoughts—that he wanted me because I didn't want him, that it was a bet from Sirius, that he was only looking for a good snog. Nope. Not that he loved me.

It's silly, really. How, then, did I fall hopelessly in love with James Potter that I was prepared to sacrifice everything I had to be with him?

Our tale is one woven with a deep web of emotions—love, hate, passion, longing, anger, grief.

Lord Voldemort had been rising in power during our sixth year in Hogwarts, and in the middle of our seventh and last year, he sprang from the darkness and openly caused havoc, killing ruthlessly and extensively, setting the Dark Mark hovering above public places, and setting the people into terrified silence. Voldemort murdered my parents that year, and James' father, and I can tell you, I sunk into a real state of misery.

James was sorrowful for about five months—and then he started doing other things again—playing a few pranks, playing Quidditch, hanging out with Sirius, Remus and Peter.

I couldn't understand him. How could he have forgotten? Why was he suddenly so cheery again? I got angry at him because he could forget the pain, start living his life to the full again, and I couldn't.

I continued the way I was—silent, grieving and furious. One night, when James and I were sitting in our common room (I say 'our common room' because it was used only by James and I, the Head Boy and Girl), I exploded.

I'd been doing a particularly difficult Transfiguration essay. Transfiguration was my weakest subject. I'd been labouring over the silly essay, and I'd gotten frustrated because the darned textbook and my own notes could not help me finish it. I had been cursing away for hours, and scratching out sentence after sentence.

Then James came in noisily, right after Quidditch practice, because his jet-black hair was tousled and messier than usual, and his hazel eyes were shining from exhilaration, his broom tucked under an arm.

Noticing me glaring at him, he sobered down.

"Hey, Lily," he muttered, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. I made no reply. He cast his gaze downwards and trooped up one of the curving spiral staircases on either side of the common room that led to our private dormitories.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, and I glanced up without letting him see I was. He had showered, and had changed out of his Quidditch robes. Indifferently, I turned back towards the accursed Transfiguration thing and stared at the words written beautifully across the parchment, but without meaning to it.

My eyes carefully cast downwards, I watched as James opened his Transfiguration book and dipped his quill into the ink, and proceeded to scribbling at the parchment for—OK, fine, I timed him—six minutes, nineteen seconds and forty-eight milliseconds.

He made a small sound of appreciation, read over his essay one more time, and then threw his quill down. He looked over at me then, and I quickly feigned reading something in the book.

I tried writing something again, but my attempt was meager and an utter failure. I saw James hesitate, and then ventured, "Need help, Lily?" He had taken to calling me by my first name at the start of seventh year, when he was made Head Boy, becoming more serious.

I got irritated at him, for inside of me, an anger was building, a frustration, at Voldemort murdering my parents, and my helplessness. James just tipped the scale—it was as if I couldn't do anything, not even a pathetic Transfiguration essay.

I blew up. "I don't need help from _you_!" I screamed, "I don't need help from anyone! No one can help me, anyway! My parents are dead, and I didn't even get to say goodbye! The stupid magical world is collapsing, and everything around me is frigging crumbling because of some asshole who is obsessed with killing! I—" Then I stopped, my mind running over what I had just said, and I fell to my knees, put my head in my hands and sobbed loud, bitter sobs that wracked my body.

James got up from where he was, across me, and came to me. He sank down next to me, then put an arm around me.

"It's OK, Lily," he whispered softly, "you're allowed to feel sad, and angry."

I lifted my head, and hissed hoarsely and furiously, "Yeah, _you_ can say that! _Your _dad is dead"—here he winced, and I instantly regretted saying it, but I was too long gone to care too much—"and you just go on happily and doing whatever shit Quidditch and being _happy, _while all I can do is self-destruct like a frigging shit time bomb! I just keep thinking about them, and stupid fcking Voldemort, and I just can't get it out of my head—oh, I keep crying and feeling sad, while _you _get to be _happy_! I hate you! I hate Voldemort! I hate everyone! I hate this world! I hate my stupid life! I wish everything would just evaporate!"

And then I wept mournfully again, fast bitter tears that wouldn't stop coming, welling up from behind my eyes, and flowing down my face.

James had gone quiet, and I looked up at him, fiercely, ready to attack again, to ignore the heartache I felt and burst, burst into a million pieces, shattering everything I felt.

James was staring at his hands when he spoke next. His voice was quiet, and it pierced another arrow through my heart. I wished he would just yell and scream at me that I was selfish, but he didn't. "Lily," he said softly, "you think I don't care about my father, that I'm just able to be happy—it takes effort, Lily. Of course I'm sad—heck, I spend every night tossing and turning, trying to get some sleep, being haunted by Voldemort in my dreams. But Dad wouldn't have wanted me to mourn him forever—he used to say 'A day without laughter is a day wasted'. I don't want to disappoint him. I try to be happy, show some semblance of happiness, do something that might make me forget all about Voldemort, if just for a few hours. I love Quidditch. I—inside I'm self-destructing too, Lily, but what good would I do, trying to avenge my father, maybe even kill Voldemort, if I am just a moping mess? I want to help the wizarding world. I believe that if we all worked together, we could definitely bring Voldemort down. I want to be a part of that group. Lily, I think you could be, too."

He gently lifted my chin with his hand so our eyes were level. His hazel eyes were startlingly warm, so comforting. "I think you're fantastic, Lily. I know you're sad, and I understand your pain. But I don't want you to grieve. I want you to be happy. I had this feeling, that, if I could make someone I love happy, perhaps I can find real, true happiness too."

A wave of an unidentifiable feeling washed over me. I felt excited, exhilarated, happier than I had ever been since I received the dreadful news, and maybe even before. My stomach squirmed, and my palms were clammy.

"I love you, Lily." His voice was so quiet that I thought I must have imagined it, and it hung in the air like a promise, before being carried away. It was almost like all the times he said it when I refused a date, save one thing—this time, I believed it.

And this time, I felt something in return. MY heart pounded against my chest and my blood raced.

I looked up at him, and I saw his beautiful hazel eyes were bright and shiny, swimming with tears.

"Thank you, James." This was the first time I'd ever called him by his first name. He managed a weak smile. "I…" I stopped. "Thank you. I guess… maybe I can try to be happy now too."

This time, his grin stretched wider, and this made me smile.

Like it was moving with some unique power of its own, my body inched closer to him. I saw the surprise written all over his features, but I didn't care.

He didn't look like he cared much, either. Cautiously, he put his other arm around me, and when he rested it across my shoulder, it was hesitant, as if he was sure that I'd jump up and snap at him for taking advantage of my vulnerability. Well, he probably _did _think that.

Slowly, I tilted toward him, till our bodies were touching, and then I leaned my head on his shoulder. It felt so right, like this was made for me, and James had just been waiting for me to realize it all this time.

I smiled, and looked up at him. He was smiling. I gazed at him. He was so handsome… the rumpled jet-black hair I'd once found irritating was so adorable, and his eyes were so deep, and I knew he really did understand my pain. His strong arms tightened around me, and I felt safe.

Without warning, I seemed to levitate upwards, and our lips met in an earth-shattering kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and his kiss was gentle yet insistent.

That fateful night, James had crept into my heart subtly but surely. Perhaps he was already there, and that night just sparked the start of our smooth-flowing relationship, but, whatever the case, James had been treading along the path to my heart for a long time and now that I had finally let him in, it felt like I was floating on the clouds. It was my dream come true.

A dream come true…

**.o.o.o.**

**Read and review please. Thanks. **


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